The Strange Ones
by The Cold and Careful Lady
Summary: After Narnia, the Pevensie siblings would never be the same. This is a series of ficlets based off of the times that their Narnian personalities were shown. These are the slip-ups of the strange ones.
1. The Nymph's Waltz

Susan had gotten the notification two weeks ago. It was a flyer attached to the door of her and Lucy's shared dorm room, and she had noticed it on the way to breakfast.

_Saint Finbar's School for Young Ladies, _

_In collaboration with Hendon House for Excellent Boys,_

_Would like to announce the fifteenth annual Family Christmas Ball._

_When: December 18__th__ at 6:00 PM_

_Where: The Grand Ballroom at Saint Finbar's_

_Dress is Formal, and all immediate family members may attend._

_Please inform your Headmaster/Headmistress if you will attend._

Now, two weeks later, on December 18th, 1942, Susan and Lucy were getting ready. Their parents, Helen and John, were due to arrive shortly and would meet them at the ballroom along with their brothers who were arriving with Hendon House. Susan smoothed down her red gown that accented her dark hair, and finished pinning holly into Lucy's curls. Lucy was dressed in a dark green brocade that was very much in a Narnian style, as was Susan's.

When they arrived at the ballroom, the girls greeted their parents, the both of them unknowingly adopting regal airs as they slipped into the role of hostess. Peter and Edmund arrived soon after, and they intermingled with their parents, sisters, and other students after the dinner was finished.

Soon, the musicians started the first song of the night, a waltz, but no one seemed brave enough to start the ball. Peter, summoning his bravery, held his hand out to Susan.

"Would you do me the honor of starting the ball milady? For old times' sake?"

Susan smiled at his use of the old language. "It would be my honor milord."

Peter escorted his sister to the middle of the room, Edmund and Lucy not far behind. All eyes were on the four children, the four of them doing what none had dared. With a formal bow each from Peter and Edmund, and low curtsies from Susan and Lucy, the musicians restarted the music. The boys swept their sisters across the floor, twisting and turning, spinning the girls left and right. About halfway through, the boys spun the girls out and switched partners, Peter with Lucy now and Edmund with Susan.

"It feels wonderful to dance this again." Susan commented to her baby brother. "The Nymph's Waltz I mean."

"It is sad that Caspian does not know it. Such a tradition will be lost. We always started the balls' off with this dance." Edmund commented sadly as he twirled Susan.

"Oh, don't worry about that!" Susan laughed. "I taught it to Caspian before we came back. He had wished to know if there were any customs that had been lost after we left the first time, and I mentioned this one. I made sure he could dance it in his sleep before his coronation."

"You really are wonderful Su. Now, back to Peter you go! We have one more sequence before the dance is over."

With that, Susan spun back to Peter, passing Lucy on her way. The Nymph's Waltz was a carefully orchestrated dance that the Royals opened every ball with. As such, the four siblings knew it inside and out, backwards and forwards. Fifteen years worth of galas will do that to you. During the switching of the partners, Peter and Edmund would twirl the girls twice, and then release them, and the other brother would catch their hand before moving away. One misstep could ruin the whole dance, and it was a beautiful dance to watch.

All too soon, the waltz ended. Susan and Lucy made low, beautiful, curtsies that revealed the queens that they were, and Edmund and Peter gave kingly bows. After the bows though, the siblings realized that they were alone on the dance floor, and everybody was looking at them astonished. Thankfully the children were saved from an explanation by the Headmaster and Headmistress of the schools coming out to dance the next dance.

However though, any time that night a sibling danced with someone else, the other student always felt incompetent because of the glorious display of dancing that had been put on. Whispers also followed the four siblings for the next few weeks as people mused about how the four children had learned to dance like that. Their response?

"In the country."


	2. Stratagem

Peter glanced at the clock, drowsy yet again. Class was about halfway done, and he was nearing sleep. _Wonderful_. The class was officially titled War and Politics; Peter had signed up for it because it had sounded interesting. He _was_ an expert on this type of thing. But, it turned out to be horribly boring. The Professor droned on and on in a monotone voice, making a marvelous topic dreary and flat. Peter couldn't wait till it was over.

"Pevensie!" Peter's head snapped up.

"Yes Professor?"

"Because you have refrained from paying attention to my lecture, please come up here and give me a battle plan that would have worked better than the one that was used. And I want your _own_ plan. Not one that has been used before in history. Class, gather round the table. Pevensie is going to present."

Peter got up from his desk, and walked to the front of the classroom, the other boys falling behind him. Picking up the large map that detailed the forces of the two opposing sides, Peter smiled slightly. This was similar to an invasion that he had dealt with before. Surveying the map for a few moments more, Peter saw exactly what adjustments he would need to make to his original strategy as far as the differences in the lay of the land went.

"Alright everyone, listen up." Peter's tone was sharp, and thoroughly non-nonsense. He drew his stature up to his full height, which was an impressive six-foot-two. His blond hair fell gracefully into his eyes, and his jaw was strong. He looked every inch a King.

"The Calor-ahem, Blue forces, are invading from the sea. That leaves the Narn-I mean, Red army with a home field advantage. Now, if you look closely on the map, there is a castle a few kilometers inland. That castle is the Red Army's home. It is the seat of their government. They will protect Cair, um, that castle at all costs. To do this, the Red Army is going to assume that the Blue Army's maps are incompetent. Now, there will of course be several spies within the Blue Army's ranks, because if there was even a hint of an invasion I would have dispatched them immediately. Therefore, we would know what maps they have, how many weapons, how many men strong they are, etcetera. This will allow us to prepare our army efficiently and swiftly. Scouts would be sent out in two different groups. One would actually scout the army, and one group would be seen." Peter addressed his class sternly. A hand popped up with a question, and he pointed to the guy.

"Now, why would the scouts be seen? Doesn't that seem redundant to you?" His classmate asked.

"Not at all. It actually works very well. By allowing the enemy to see one set of scouts, the enemy will underestimate you. They will believe that your army is incompetent, and that they can easily win. Pride does come before a fall. Once the scouts have come back with their information, a royal embassy will be sent out to try and arrange a treaty. This usually involves a royal, or a high-ranking official in the court. Of course, being a good ruler, a treaty will have been attempted multiple times, and the embassy will only be a last ditch effort to save lives.

In this type of situation, a treaty will not be reached, but the embassy will set the time and place for the battle. That is good etiquette after all. Surprise attacks are bad form, not to mention tasteless. These plans are generally executed by cowards who cannot bear to face you themselves, so they attack you in your sleep. It's really one step above an assassination attempt. Like I said, it's very unsavory attitude." Peter took a deep breath, and continued addressing the class, not noticing the looks he was getting.

"Now that the treaty has fallen through, and the time and place have been set, you must make sure that your troops are supplied and well fed. Undernourished soldiers are basically a guarantee that you will lose. On the day of the battle, you ride out with the troops from the camp that has been set up nearby. The place you have chosen has many advantages for you, including the hills where your archers are stationed. You can greatly trust the leader of that regiment, and you know that they will follow orders while still keeping a clear head on their shoulders. Being flexible with your plans is key in war, and you have backup plans for your backup plans.

Down on the main field, you are at the head of the army. Your general is on your left, and your most trusted advisor, friend, and companion is on your right. Then, you charge. With the archers pummeling arrows upon the ground, and a set of…reinforcements on the other side of the field, you are in good shape. The reinforcements come upon the opposing army from behind, and start slaughtering them from there, catching them completely by surprise. And then, a couple of hours later, and one duel with an opposing King, you win. The End."

_Not to mention the help of Aslan. We always needed His help. May He be upon us all._

As he was caught up in his thoughts, Peter did not notice his stunned classmates, or his Professor who was looking at him, his jaw dropped.

"Where did you learn all of that?" The Professor asked. "That was extremely detailed, not to mention very well thought out. Full marks Pevensie. And some extra, for that matter."

"Thank you Sir." Peter said just as the bell rang. Walking out of class, he inwardly cursed himself for letting his thoughts run away from him.

_Oh well. _The Magnificent King thought, smirking slightly. _That strategy did come from the Battle of Shuddering Wood after all. Those Calormenians never did know what had hit them._


	3. Not a Child

Sending her children off to the country was one of the hardest things Helen Pevensie had ever done…or so she thought. It turned out, getting them back was even harder. Now, it wasn't the actual bringing them home that was hard. No, it seemed as if her children had had personality transplants over the summer. They had, effectively, grown up. Helen did not know her own children anymore.

They hadn't changed in a bad way; they were just different. Peter had become a man; anybody could see that. But the way he acted around his siblings was different. He treated his sisters with the utmost respect, and he wasn't spiteful towards Edmund anymore. He was…regal almost. He still had a fun side, but it was kept more in check. His temper still needed working on though.

Of the four, Edmund had changed the most. He had gone from being unpleasant and swarthy, to compassionate and controlled. He kept Peter in check a lot of times, and his sense of humor was limitless. He constantly was playing harmless pranks on his family members. Edmund was also very fair. He wouldn't hesitate to step in if someone was being bullied, and then deal with the situation himself by talking it out between the two parties.

Susan it seemed, hadn't changed all too much. She had matured of course, and had grown physically, but her sweet and sometimes sarcastic Susan was still present. She had become more formal though, and was less shy. She had no problem handling herself around any adult, even important ones. She played the role of hostess impeccably, mingling and greeting people to perfection. She had this air about her that just welcomed people.

Lucy though, was not her Lucy anymore. Her dear, almost-ten year old baby had grown up. She wasn't naïve anymore. She could argue her way out of a situation like Edmund; she dealt with people like Susan; her temper even rivaled Peter's on occasion. Little Lucy was the mash-up of her three siblings, and they didn't seem to see anything wrong with it! Helen Pevensie's little girl had been lost to her.

* * *

It had been than three days since Helen Pevensie got her children back, and everything was mundane. She had babied them relentlessly for as long as she could, but that only lasted two days. Still though, she clung onto the hope that her darling Lucy would let her hold on just a bit more. This sadly, was not to be.

Helen arrived home late one afternoon after running a few errands. She left Edmund and Lucy home alone for a couple of hours; they were twelve and almost-ten after all. They could handle themselves for a while. When Helen walked in the front door, the house was dark and there wasn't any noise. After calling for the two of them, Helen walked slightly into the woods that were behind the tidy house. What she saw there, was not something she wished to ever see again.

Her two _youngest children _were in the woods dueling. With real _knives_. They seemed to have found those old souvenirs that her darling John had picked up when he went to Australia for a year. Except now, the knives weren't mottled and rusty. They gleamed and glistened, flashing in the waning light of the afternoon. Each child had two knives, and both were wielding them…expertly. It was astonishing to say the least. Helen just froze as she watched her babies twist back and forth, jumping and ducking, parrying the blows. It was beautiful in an odd sort of way.

Then, Helen snapped out of her trance.

"Edmund! Lucy! What on _earth_ are you doing?" Helen normally had a very beautiful voice, but at that moment, it had risen three octaves and was very shrill.

Edmund felt it was better to cut to the chase. "Dueling, Mother. It's quite a bit of fun. Ow!" Lucy had elbowed him in the ribs.

"You're making it worse." She hissed. "Just please be quiet."

"Just trying to be honest." Edmund shot back under his breath.

"You both should know better than to play with knives! And how on earth did you learn to do that!" Helen was slowly reaching the point of hysteria.

"We learned it in the country Mum, that's all." Lucy explained.

"The two or you are forbidden to play with knives again, do you hear me!" Helen had turned stern.

"But Mother!" Edmund pleaded. "I am quite assured that be both know an extensive amount of safety procedures and precautions when it comes to these types of situations."

"No exceptions either of you. You are too young to be playing with knives. You are just _children_!"

That is what made Helen's youngest daughter snap. Unbeknownst to her mother, Lucy had been grieving for Narnia ever since she had left it, and Lucy couldn't help but feel that it was her fault that they left in the first place. If wasn't for her insistence of searching behind the Lamppost… She had been stripped of her titles, her body, her home, and sent back to England were she was a nine-year old child again. Her opinions didn't count anymore, she was overshadowed and disregarded. She was Queen Lucy the Valiant of Narnia. She had fought in too many battles to count. Straightening her shoulders, and raising her chin, Lucy slipped on the mask of regal indifference that all of her siblings had perfected thus far.

"I am no child." With that, the Valiant and Wild Queen strode into her house and up to her bedroom.

To say Helen was shocked would be a vast understatement, but what her youngest son said next her rocked to the core.

"She isn't a child, you know. None of us are anymore. Surely you've noticed that?"

Leaving his mother alone in the woods behind their house, the Just King walked upstairs to comfort his sister, where they cried over the loss of Narnia together.

* * *

**A/N: Ok, so it's a bit different than the others. I felt that something was needed from the viewpoint of a parent though, which is why I wrote this one. I have a few more ideas for ficlets like this, so expect them to pop up occasionally. Oh, and a universal disclaimer for all of my stories is on my profile. Thank you to all of my reviewers! You all have made me a very happy author.**


	4. Manipulatory Coercion

That day, Peter and Edmund channeled their protective-brother sides. It was also the day that boys would learn to stay away from Susan and Lucy Pevensie. The annual Valentine's Dance was coming up, and both Pevensie girls were hot topics in the Hendon House Dining Hall during lunch time. Needless to say, the Pevensie boys were not pleased.

They had first overheard the conversation while walking into the Dining Hall. A group of boys, ranging from Peter to Edmund's ages were all eating and discussing the girls that they wished to take. Susan's name had popped up first, when a boy that Peter was in Maths with mentioned her. Lucy came up a few minutes later, when one of Edmund's acquaintances said he wished to go with her. Hearing this, the two young kings grabbed the arms of the other two boys, and took them out the door.

"What on earth are you doing mate?" Peter's classmate inquired.

"We are going to discuss some things. Now shut up." Peter reprimanded.

They made their way to an empty classroom, the offenders muttering the entire way. Leaning against the Professor's desk, the brothers motioned for the other boys to take a seat. Peter eyed the other ones with a critical look. In his opinion, they didn't match up. No one was good enough for his sisters. Well, that Prince of Archenland might have been decent for Lucy, and that Duke of Telmar was okay since Susan liked him well enough, but they never totally matched his standards.

"Alright boys. We all know why we are sitting here. You want to take my sister to the dance. We are here to have a _chat_ about this little matter." Peter used his most menacing voice.

Edmund nodded vigorously in agreement. He was scratching things down in a legal pad of his, looking up once or twice every so often. The detained were looking increasingly nervous as the seconds ticked by. Finally, the scratching of pen against paper ceased, and Edmund set his instruments down.

"Proceed Peter." He gave his brother a regal nod that made the younger boy quake in fear.

"Each of you wish to take a sister of mine to the upcoming Valentine's Dance, correct?" The boys nodded in affirmation. "Why do you want to do this?"

"What do you mean?" The younger boy asked, clearly intimidated by the cold looks and aloof natures shown by his normally odd schoolmates.

"What are your intentions towards my sister. Lucy, I presume?" Edmund cut in now.

Peter smirked inwardly. His work was practically done. In this setting, he was merely the fuel, the catalyst, to get the boys to talk. Edmund would interrogate them, and he would be the one to draw out the words. He would have them talking in minutes. A flicker of his former boyhood flitted across his memory, but he pushed it aside.

_Honestly, a fifteen-year old and a thirteen-year old are not kings anymore. It has been almost six months after all. You should have been back by now._ Peter thought. Great. Now his subconscious was channeling Susan. That is exactly what he needed; his fourteen-year old sister in his head. Mentally running away from his subconscious, Peter turned back to the conversation, where really no time had passed at all.

"Y-yes. I would like to take Lucy to the dance."

"But what are your intentions?" Edmund pressed harder. "What made you notice her? Did someone put you up to this? Is this a joke? My sister will be eleven one month after the dance. Do you intend to break her heart? To steal her away until she is uncaring about life? Will you do that to my ten-year old sister?" Edmund was standing up, right in the boy's face. His voice was raised, which indicated to Peter that he really wasn't all that irritated. He had however, made the other boy cry.

"I-I'm just t-twelve." He blubbered. "I-I thought she was pretty. O-Oh well now. Margaret Edwards will g-go with me. S-She doesn't have mean b-brothers." With that, the younger boy, who went by the name of Theodore Walsh ran out the door.

"I think he messed himself." The other boy, Peter's age, commented lightly. A cruel smirk was present on his face. His name was Gerald Farquhar, and to say he was an arse would be an understatement. Unfortunately his father was also on the board of directors, and probably owned half of the school.

"You are not off the hook either, though I didn't mean to make Theo cry." By now, Edmund's tone was dark and deadly, but Gerald seemed to not pick up on it as Edmund approached him. Peter merely leaned against the teacher's desk; this was going to be a good show. A tactic, used on many suspected spies was getting ready to be used, and it consisted of a ploy; friendship.

"What on earth do you mean by that? Of course you were just messing with ol' Theo. Pulling his leg was all you were doing. I mean, I can understand protecting the little one, she's a bit young for my taste, but that older bird you live with… She's a piece of it herself."

"That she is. I have never known my sister to be bloody-_Gentle_ if I do say so myself. She is a firecracker" Naturally, Peter was the only other one to get the joke in its proper tone. Gerald took it an entirely different way, and in one that Peter and Edmund did not like him thinking about their sister.

Knowing this, Ed rejoined Peter, and they faced Gerald. Peter had thankfully been taking notes the entire time; Edmund would have to spend hours deciphering his script though. Some things just cannot be helped, even after fifteen years. He supposed it had been all that time writing with quills and parchment that must have affected them when they came back.

"You clearly perceive yourself as above Theo. He is a bit young if I do say so myself, as is my sister. He will get over his schoolboy crush. You however… Why do you want to court my sister?" Edmund's eyes held a spark of mischief, and his tone was lighthearted.

"She's pretty. She's fiery. Some may say _aggressive_ at times. I wouldn't mind getting to _know_ her." The tone of Gerald's voice was not one that made Peter or Edmund happy.

"So your attraction to my sister is based solely on physical appearances? What if she wasn't so pretty?" Peter had to interject here. In Narnia, when he had used this tone of voice, the suitors would run. The only one who hadn't was Rabadash, and that had turned out badly. Needless to say, none of the Pevensies were hoping for a repeat of _that_.

"Well of course not. I must have a beautiful girl hanging on my arm if I am to ever advance my career in anything. Appearance is key boys." Gerald's tone was cheery. He could practically taste the victory in the air.

Edmund could tell by the boy's reaction to his questions that his plan was going to have to change. He honestly felt sorry for Gerald now. He was going to let him off easily, but after those comments… Gerald would be in bad shape this afternoon.

"You know what Gerald? I think Peter and I are the wrong people to be having this discussion with." Edmund stated the previous…statement firmly, a somewhat evil smirk on his face. Peter's head snapped up from his notes, that you could have heard his neck crack. He started to speak, but Edmund silenced him with a glare. "You should go talk to my dear sister Susan herself. Just tell her everything that you have told me, use a transcript of this meeting if you want to. I am sure that Susan would be delighted to go to the dance with you after talking with you."

Peter relaxed visibly, and his blue eyes danced with mirth. "Yes, why don't you do just that mate? Susie should be down at the Archery Range by now. Just don't tell her that we sent you. We'll tell her after you have your date confirmed." Two identically innocent looks were plastered onto the kings' faces as the three boys got up and walked towards the doors.

"Sure mates. I'll be off now. How about telling you what happens at supper?" Gerald waved behind him as he walked down the hall.

"Sounds fine. Be sure to call her Susie! It makes her go weak at the knees!" Edmund waved Gerald Farquhar off.

"I feel like we just sent him to his death." Peter commented not at all with a bit of remorse. "Oh well." He shrugged.

"He deserves it after those comments." Edmund replied cheekily, his evil smirk present again. "Susan's face when he calls her Susie…it will be priceless."

"Where did you learn all this anyways? I always wondered, but I never asked." Peter queried out of the blue.

"The White B-ahem-Witch." Ed coughed. "I was in the presence of an evil psychopathic woman for days. I had to learn something. I call it manipulatory coercion." Peter just laughed in response.

"I knew it!"

* * *

That evening, Gerald Farquhar came into the Dining Hall looking considerably roughened up. His hair was askew, his nose was bleeding, the boy was sporting a black eye, and a nasty red handprint was visible on his cheek. As he walked over to where Peter and Edmund sat, his limp was obvious as well.

"What happened to you mate?" Peter asked. He had to say, this was a bit over the top for Susan.

"Apparently your sister didn't take kindly to some comments that I gave her." Gerald grimaced, looking distractedly around the hall.

"Oh. Sorry 'bout that mate. I was heading to go talk with said sister now; I'll try and bring her under control. C'mon Peter." Edmund hurriedly grabbed Peter and walked out of supper.

"What was that about?" Peter asked when they were outside.

"He had us surrounded. We were seated with his friends, and he was making eye contact with them, as well as a few of my former friends that were around the hall. If I had waited any longer, we probably would look just like him by now. Thank me." Edmund gestured with his hands widely as he spoke and walked. "Susan was awfully brilliant though!"

* * *

**AN: So, a considerably longer ficlet than normal is presented in hope to make up for the ridiculous time to write it. In my defense I was sick, and I had been writing another one before chucking it to the side. I would like to thank my reviewer Hannah Skipper for all of her brilliant ideas. That is where this one came from, and I hope to use more of them! This ficlet has much more innuendos/language in it than I am normally comfortable writing, but it was necessary for the character of Gerald, who is a dirty-minded sexist pig. The boys might come off a bit OOC, but they are intended that way, as they have not been back to Narnia for a second time, so they aren't as depressed as in LTLST. Life is being good to Peter and Ed, and Edmund's manipulatory coercion is let out to play. In short, they are acting more like their ages. Thanks to all of my reviewers!**


	5. Disarmed

As practice ended, Edmund whipped the sweaty helmet off his head, and shook his dark hair out. There were eleven other boys on the fencing team, and he was one of the best, if he may say so himself. Heading back to the locker rooms, he quickly changed, figuring he'd shower back at his dorm. After storing his equipment, Edmund made his way back out through the gym, waving at his teammates and coach. He also sent a cheeky wink at the group of girls sitting in the stands. They were from St. Finbar's, and came to a couple of the practices each week. Someone caught his eye though, and Edmund turned around.

Peter was waiting in the stands today, and he never did that, so Edmund headed towards his almost-sixteen year old brother.

"What are you doing here?" Edmund asked. At Peter's raised eyebrow, he quickly corrected himself. "I mean, you just never come to practice."

"Brought a surprise for you." Peter drew a parcel from underneath his seat; it was long and relatively thick. "Open it."

Edmund drew back the crinkly brown paper, and a gasp of surprise was audible. "Peter, how did you…"

"Last weekend I was wandering around the village and I came across this little junk shop. The owner was trying to get rid of them; they were at a ridiculously low price. I figured we could get in some use. I checked with Poplar just before coming over here and he cleared them. Says we can practice as long as we don't use them against another student. I made sure he gave the both of us notes and wrote it in our files." Peter shrugged his shoulders modestly.

"This is amazing." Edmund stood up, and picked up the first item in the parcel, tossing the other to Peter. The two boys strapped the medieval items on as they had done once so long ago.

The items were leather scabbards, about five feet in length. Edmund drew his first, the sword making a hiss as it was revealed. The blade was about fifty-five inches in length, and made of tempered steel. The sword was not ornate by any means; that caliber would not be found in just any junk shop. But it was a sword, and just the familiarity of the steel and leather was enough to tear at the young Kings' heartstrings.

"It is beautiful." Edmund examined it in the light, checking the weapon for cracks or dents, and finding none.

"They're both Claymores, just a bit shorter and heavier than Rhindon." Peter commented. "It'll be a bit different than our Narnian variety, but the balance should be relatively similar."

"At this point, I could care less. Let's go practice."

Edmund sheathed his weapon with skill, his hand finding the familiar place on his belt with ease. He led the way outside, looking every bit the young king he was. Peter was close behind him. The two brothers made their way to a small clearing on the edge of the Hendon House property; a place that they had often commented would be ideal for swordplay. The brothers drew their swords in sync, their stances mirroring each other. They were like opposite ends of the spectrum; one fair, one dark.

Edmund made the first move, making a thrust towards Peter. The latter parried it easily; the move was beginner, juvenile at best for the two boys. This was just a warm-up. Soon, blows became more frequent, and the young kings slipped back into their roles. Muscle Memory returned to the again-growing bodies, and what had once been a necessity became an art form. Spinning, ducking, and dodging, the two boys became Kings once more.

As the heat of the duel grew, so did the clang of steel, and it reverberated across the Hendon House grounds. Only Headmaster Nicholas Poplar was unaffected by the noise; he had given permission for those unusual Pevensie boys to practice after all. A crowd quickly gravitated towards the noise, drawing students from both St. Finbar's and Hendon House alike.

Susan and Lucy were in their school's garden when the noise of the duel reached their ears, and hearing it they immediately made their way in that direction. The noise was so familiar and heart-warming. It brought back memories of worn leather, warm days in the sun, and the smell of horses. It was a comforting sound.

The girls reached the site of the noise, and were surprised to see a large crowd had gathered. It was like they were back in the old days again.

Peter and Edmund were in the center of the circle, completely oblivious to the horde that had amassed. The young kings were dodging and jumping; they parried blows flawlessly like they hadn't missed a day of Orieus's practice, much less six months. In short, they looked like the kings that they were.

Edmund was like the night, a swift shadow moving in and out, dodging and rolling whilst bantering the whole way. Peter was the day, bright and Magnificent. The sun reflected off his blade, and it looked like God himself had invested power into the young King. He shone radiance as he made to conquer, and his brother was like a thief in the night, coming to destroy. They were the opposite ends of the spectrum, but at the same time a force that was not to be reckoned. It was a beautiful and horrifying sight.

The students that knew Peter and Edmund, that sat in class with them every day, felt like their eyes had been opened. No one had known that those odd Pevensie boys were hiding _this_. This was not just a match between boys. This was not childish play between a member of the fencing team and his older brother. No. This was a display of masculinity, an exhibition of men. This was a reminder of what used to happen in days gone by when chivalry was alive and fair ladies and knights reigned. This was what royalty looked like.

Edmund strengthened his attacks, pressing forward, but Peter pushed right back. Neither boy seemed to be overly tired, much to the disbelief of the surrounding students. Edmund started on series of complicated moves, pivoting and swirling. He oozed strength, as every true swordsman does, but he had an air of grace that betrayed his intellectual side. Peter was simply majestic. The way he moved, responded, and carried himself as he dueled gave off an air of regality that just could not be matched. He was the warrior, his brother the judge.

In retaliation to Edmund's forward attacks, Peter returned with his own, and his talent and prowess soon overpowered his brother. In a last ditch effort, Edmund saw an opening, and took it. He thrust the blade of his sword down to the hilt of Peter's, and twisted his wrist sharply. To save his wrist from breaking, Peter let go of the hilt of his sword, and the five-foot steel and leather weapon flung wide. Thankfully, it went in the opposite direction from the gathered crowd, which was stunned into silence.

Peter laughed. "I taught you that move!"

"And so the student overtakes the master." Edmund gave his brother a mock bow. "Would you like me to grovel at your feet O' Magnificent One?"

"Sounds perfect." Peter gave a regal nod.

"Well it's not going to happen." Edmund quipped. "Too bad."

"You two were wonderful!" Lucy broke in, running to her brother's arms as applause started from the gathered crowd.

Peter and Edmund looked out confusedly at the crowd, their eyes getting wide. Susan came up behind the boys, and whispered to where only the four of them could hear.

"You two should be used to it by now."

"It's been a while." Edmund muttered back.

"Get over it." Lucy muttered. "You're a King." Louder, she said "I need help with my homework boys, let's go." She started dragging them off towards the St. Finbar's gardens, where they would then lose any potential schoolmates that were following them.

Such was the life of the Pevensie siblings, and after that, Peter and Edmund found more secluded spots for their weekly practices.


	6. Painting The Land

When Lucy Pevensie revealed that she was an artist to Finchley, people were shocked. They had all known her for years, and the young lady had never even shown an inclination to paint at all, much less something of that magnitude. It was yet another thing that left people wondering.

In Narnia, Lucy was rarely seen without her brush and paint set, but back in England the pieces brought up painful memories. Whenever she tried to apply the London skyline onto canvas or even tried to paint a simple duck pond, Narnia came flooding back to her. Simply looking at her paint things hurt for the longest time.

The two trips she made back to Narnia didn't help Lucy regain her love of painting either. While there she was constantly reminded of what she had lost, and what she would again lose. Lucy had her heartbroken three times before the age of fourteen, and she was almost fully broken after coming back from their sea voyage with Caspian.

Three years later, at the age of sixteen, Lucy Pevensie was able to pick up her paints again. It was the final step in her healing process.

Lucy spent months painting various things around her home, Finchley, and even London, but nothing turned out the way that she had been able to make it become back in Narnia. At first, she attributed it to her paints and brushes. She didn't have unicorn-hair brushes and nymph-made paint anymore. The gold paint in England didn't _actually have_ dwarf-beaten gold mixed within it, and the canvases were crude pieces and most assuredly not expertly made by gnomes.

After going over all of her messed up paintings, Lucy realized that the thing messing up her paintings was herself. Lucy's heart was not into painting England, because England was not her home and England was not Narnia. So, Lucy set out to remedy her problem and still be able to paint.

* * *

"What do you mean; you're going to paint Narnia?" Edmund ran his fingers through his hair, half-listening and rummaging through the kitchen for something to eat.

"I meant exactly what I said." Lucy rolled her eyes. "I'm going to paint Narnia from my memories. My paintings haven't been turning out as well as they used to and I think it's because I'm not painting the land that I love. So, I'm going to paint Narnia."

"Brill. Tell me whenever you finish one, alright?"

Lucy could see that he really wasn't paying attention, and shook her head before going back to her paint supplies. "Will do, Ed. Will do."

* * *

Lucy's first painting was of the Beaver's Dam, with a warm aura cascading from the windows and a plume of smoke rising from the chimney. When her siblings viewed it, they were awestricken.

"It's beautiful, Lu." Susan's voice was soft.

"It looks like it did that first time we saw it. That day that we were cold, hungry, and lost." Peter found the words to speak, Edmund was still speechless.

"Thank you." Lucy said modestly while hanging the painting in the sitting room.

* * *

Next, Lucy created a series based on the Cair: the throne room, the library, and a work of the outside as seen from the beach were all painted. After the final one, Lucy became a very popular artist. People were drawn to the fantasy aspect of her marvelous pieces, and bought many of them. Her paintings of the creatures of Narnia were soon popular for children, as what little boy doesn't want a sword-wielding centaur in their bedroom and what little girl doesn't want a dancing nymph in hers?

* * *

After leaving from the Dawn Treader, Aslan commissioned Edmund and Lucy to find him in their world, and to spread the word about him. Lucy's way of accomplishing this mission was different than Edmund's, as he was studying to become a lawyer and theologist. No, Lucy used her paintings to spread the word of Aslan. Whenever a child came to buy one of her paintings, Lucy told them a story about four children, a magical Wardrobe, a White Witch, and the Lion that saved them all.

Lucy carried on the Lion's words and spread them to those who came to see her paintings that detailed the beautiful land of Narnia. She took Aslan's word and gave it to the masses in the form of a fantasy story that they were able to relate to. The children connected with the story of the Lion, took it into their hearts, and soon discovered the Lion in this world as well as in the Other.

All because of Lucy's paintings.

* * *

**AN: Happy Easter! So this one was short, sweet, and to the point, though not my favorite. I think this ficlet fit with the sentiments of today though, and it works. I'm currently working on the next chapter of Letting The Light Shine Through, as well as a new Narnia story that will be a surprise for everyone.**

**Have a blessed day, and rejoice! The Lord has risen from the grave.**

**By The Lion's Mane,**

**Inky**


	7. The Only One Left

_What I know About Faith_

_I saw you_

_at your_

_lowest point:_

_your miserable,_

_wallowing worst,_

_pitiful and dirty,_

_sorrowful and shamed_

_and I_

_still_

_love(d)_

_you_

* * *

To the surprise of everyone, Edmund was the only one who did not fail to trust Aslan.

Even Lucy fell at one point; at her darkest, dirtiest, low she failed to trust the Lion. Peter fell many times. Whenever he felt that he wasn't acting worthy of Narnia, he grew angry at Aslan for bringing them back. He failed to trust the Lion's plan. Susan just stopped believing in Him. She was hurt, grew away, and became taken over by the world.

Edmund never fell prey to the temptations of the world.

When asked by his siblings, he would respond, "I refuse to let myself fall from Aslan. I trust Him too much. He has a plan for us here. We must live through it."

Or he would say, "Aslan saw me at my lowest and still loved me. To turn my back on Him now would be betrayal."

To Edmund, Aslan was the only one that he could fully trust. He was the only one who would always be there. Edmund was the Prodigal Son. He was the one lost sheep out of the one hundred. Edmund _mattered_ to Aslan.

Edmund knew that if he let himself go once, just _once_, then he would never be back to the Edmund that Aslan had made him. He would never be the Just again. If Edmund let himself fall, then he would become the Witch's Edmund. He would become dark and grimy, a fearful thing. Edmund refused to become that again. The Witch almost consumed him when he was a boy. He refused to let her hold power again.

Also to the surprise of everyone, Edmund was the only Pevensie to think about writing about Narnia. He had discovered his love for writing in Narnia, and continued his work in England, using the typewriter as an escape. He wrote down the story of Narnia and spread the Word of the Lion through it. Edmund wrote down the story of his betrayal and redemption, of the Lion's grace and mercy, and of the beautiful and marvelous land called Narnia. Edmund wrote down the story of his first love and gave it to the masses.

Of the four Pevensie siblings, Edmund was the only one who did not give up. Who did not fall. He kept himself from the temptations of the world so that he may be able to preserve the bit of Narnia that still resided in his younger body. Edmund stayed as close to the will of Aslan as he possibly because he loved Aslan, and because he knew that there was a plan set for him.

Edmund was the Just King. He was the Judge. He knew when his people messed up, and he knew how to right the wrong. Part of his struggle was keeping the wrong within himself contained and only letting the right out.

Edmund had seen what the blackness in his heart could do at the age of twelve. Also at that age, he saw what the Lion could do to his heart and he was made anew. Aslan had sacrificed everything for _him_, a mere boy.

Edmund Pevensie would spend his life living up to the name of Aslan. Of his siblings, he was the only one left to do so with a pure heart. The boy with the blackness became the boy made anew by the love of a Lion.

He was Edmund the Just, Duke of the Western March, King of Narnia, ordained by Aslan himself. He may be in England once more, but once a King or Queen of Narnia, always a King or Queen. Edmund would do his best to live up to his title and to the Lion.

The Lion had sacrificed all for him. To live up to His word was all that Edmund could do.

He was the only one left.

* * *

**AN: This is a marvelous little piece that I came up with earlier today, and it just touched my soul. The poem is from tumblr, but I sadly do not know the original author. Letting The Light Shine Through will be up tomorrow... I'm starting on the final edits next.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**By the Mane,**

**Inky**


	8. Remember Your Name

**AN: Alright…this is not exactly a part of the Strange Ones universe, but it is at the same time. This is a song-fic, and all lyrics to the song "Lucy" belong to the band Skillet. I only own my original character and plot. Now, I am proud to present, "Remember Your Name".**

* * *

_Hey Lucy, I remember your name/I left a dozen roses on your grave today_

* * *

The young man sat on the rough stone bench, his chin resting on his hands. Before him was a morbid sight—a gravestone with a bouquet of red, red, roses laid before it. He had placed those roses there.

She had not been gone long. She has been gone for ten days. Ten little days, and he did not know how he was going to live without her.

* * *

_I just came to talk for a while/I got some things I need to say_

* * *

She had affected him so much, in the time she had been on earth. She was so alive, so vibrant. She had taken his cold, boring, heart out of hibernation and revived it. Lucy Pevensie had changed him. She took the old Theodore Walsh and made him into something better. Everyone could see it, and she was loved even more for it. She had such a heart. Lucy was kind and loving; she was a piece of heaven that fell from the sky.

But she was also haunted. Lucy had ghosts in her past that she had never told him about. She had seen and done things that Theodore dares not imagine, just for the fear of ruining the Lucy he remembered.

* * *

_I just wanna hold her/I'd give up all the world to see/That little piece of heaven looking back at me_

* * *

He loved her, so, so, much. They had been courting officially for six months before she…left, and he had only said it once. She had said it back to him that day as well, and it was one of the best in his memory.

_ "Peter and Edmund are both going away for the weekend to see our old friend the Professor, and Susan has yet another party. That means that we can see each other every day of the week without my brothers breathing down our necks." She smiled deviously, as Lucy was apt to do._

_ "So I take it that you would like to go to the museum this weekend, then?"_

_ "Theo, I would always like to go to the museum with you. Especially when I do not have to be chaperoned by my overprotective brothers." Lucy wrapped her arms around his neck, and met his lips in a chaste kiss._

_ "I do love you, Lucy. You know that, right?" He was hesitant. They may have been courting for four months, and he had known her for many years beforehand, but neither of them had taken this step._

_ "Oh Theo, I do know. And I love you very much as well."_

The memories of her were what hurt the worst. He had spent so much time with her over the years. They were the couple of Finchley. They had grown up together. Everyone had expected them to get married one day, and then the accident happened.

* * *

_Hey Lucy, I remembered your birthday/ They said it'd bring some closure to say your name_

* * *

She died ten days before her seventeenth birthday. She was going with her brothers to meet some old family friends, and the train derailed. She was standing near the tracks, and was killed instantly.

He had not been able to say goodbye. Theodore had last seen Lucy the day before. They had fought—about something so miniscule—and he hadn't spoken to her in the time since.

_"I told you Theo! I cannot go out tonight. I have to pack."_

_ "Why not, Lucy? You're just up and leaving again; this is the second time in three weeks! I just want to know why you are leaving again so soon, and you will not tell me! You can trust me, love." Theodore grasped her by the waist and pulled Lucy in._

_ "It is not a matter of trust, Theo." She shoved him backwards._

_ "I feel like it is. I feel like you think that you cannot trust me with something, and I am just curious why."_

_ "There is nothing to tell."_

_ "Lucy, I think I know you well enough to tell when you are hiding something."_

_ "It is nothing, Theo! Drop it! And look, I have to pack. Goodnight."_

_ "Fine, then. Clearly you are too busy tonight." Theo spat out. "I will see you after you get back." As Lucy watched from her window, Theodore Walsh left her house and walked two houses over to his._

He had not even said goodbye to the girl that he was head-over-heels in love with, and he would regret it for every moment of his life. It would have been her seventeenth birthday today. He had brought her roses, and she would never see them.

The memories flew in and out of Theodore Walsh's mind. He and Lucy walking hand in hand through the little town. He and Lucy laughing over the smallest things. She was his best friend, his true love, his soul mate, and she was gone. Lucy was not coming back. He would have given the world to see her one more time—to simply say goodbye—and he would never have the chance.

Lucy Pevensie was the life and love of Theodore Walsh. All he had left were memories of the vibrant girl. She was his Valiant Queen, and he was her Loyal King.

The King had lost his other half.

* * *

_Hey Lucy I remember your name_


	9. Like No One Is Watching

When Susan Pevensie played the piano, it was like a chorus of angels flew up and started singing. She was marvelous—a true proficient. Susan was given a talent for music, and she threw her heart and soul into her pieces. Music was an escape for her, and it helped Susan to grow.

In Narnia, the piano did not exist, nor did any substitute. Susan simply did not have an instrument to play. It was the only thing that she would have ever changed about her land. She only wished for a piano, but the technology was not advanced enough, and she knew not of piano-making back in England. Yet, the Gentle Queen found other ways to combat her loss of music. One such way was composition.

Susan would see things about Narnia, and write music for it. Music that described the land and the Talking Animals. Music to show the crispness of the berries by the river in springtime. Music that relayed the Queen's feelings as she rode through the meadow on a warm summer's day with Peter, or when she watched her brothers duel with Lucy. Writing the music helped Susan to cope when adjusting to Narnia, and it helped her to grow up.

Music shaped Susan the Gentle, Queen of Narnia. It helped her release her controlling tendencies into a force that she could control, completely and wholly. She became the woman that she was, because of her music.

* * *

When Susan Pevensie came back from Narnia, she was a disaster. Nothing tempted life out of her—she was a dull and drab copy of her former self. It was like the girl that she was had drawn back into a shell, never to show her face again. Her heart and soul had fallen apart when she left behind her land, and she was a lost little girl. Music had saved her once—it would have to do it again.

Back in Finchley, Susan's piano rested in the sitting room. She had spent many hours there as a child, whiling her hours away, letting her heart pour out through her fingers and onto the ivory keys. When she arrived back to England from Narnia, Susan used music to cope. It was a way of letting the hurt and frustration that she felt out of her mind and away from her heart.

When she was in Narnia, Susan wrote music. In England, Susan played music. Almost all of her compositions were carved into her memory, and she would let them out—the sweetness of the memories that the music evoked tempering the grief that wracked her frame upon summoning them. She let the music drape her like a guard against the world, blocking out the painful grief that threatened to consume her daily.

Music was a crucial part of Susan Pevensie's growth and healing. It set her up for the next phase in her life; the phase where she would blossom into the woman she was to become once more—the Gentle. Music saved Susan Pevensie twice. It wouldn't be the last time.

* * *

Susan Pevensie was granted a gift by her Creator—the gift of music. She was able to draw out the sweetest melodies with mere movements of her fingers. She was truly granted a blessing.

When she was younger, Susan kept her gift close. She hid it from all but her closest confidants. Only her family was aware as to the extent of Susan's gift, and they did not advertise her abilities to the whole village. Yet, Susan was a musician.

After music rescued her for the second time—the first in Narnia, the second in England—Susan grew up quite a bit. She learned how to become the Gentle in a land that was cruel and harsh. She learned how to be a Queen in a land that was not accepting of her. With discovering who she was as a person and Queen in exile, Susan found ways that she could use her talent to glorify Aslan. He granted her music for a reason, and not so that she could hide it in her home.

Susan soon found a way to spread Aslan through her music.

She would give concerts at the hospitals and community centers. In the playbill, there would be a description of what each piece was supposed to symbolize. Often Susan would team up with Lucy, who would tell stories about each piece of music to children.

Susan never became famous because of her music, like Lucy did with her paintings, and she was never revered within the religious community like Edmund's writings were. Even though she was certainly talented enough to become a famous composer, or a grand musician that played on stage, she was content where she was. Simply playing her little pieces from home to those that would benefit from it most was enough for her. At one time, it was her heart's desire to be desired. To be wanted and famous. But music—and Aslan—helped the proud little girl to grow up, and become the Gentle once more.

Music changed Susan Pevensie for the better a third time. And she was sure that it would not be the last. For we all fall down, but the Lion will come to pick us back up when we call for him. And that is what Susan did, through her music.

* * *

**AN: Alright, first of all, I am sorry for the long wait. I hit a large case of writer's block for a while, and I've been busy with so many other things, that writing was not top priority. **

**I hope you enjoy my imaginings of Susan as a musician! This is the third or fourth rewrite of this one-shot I believe... I had her as a dancer last week, but that ended up horribly. Now i just need to find a way that Peter spreads Aslan. Lucy has her paintings, Edmund his writing, and Susan her music. I'm hitting a block with poor Peter though.**

**I'm also in the middle of writing a one-shot of Lucy's infamous birthday party, so if I ever get it up to standard, then I will post it. I don't know when Letting The Light Shine Through will be updated again. I'm trying to work through some plotlines with that, as well as working on an original novel of mine, so I've been busy.**

**Anyways, thanks so much for reading! I appreciate it!**

**~Lady**


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